Shelter

Old Mathai turned around and looked at the house he had built one last time. He did not like living there anymore. They always shouted at him and tried to change him, he knew he was a being a burden to them. 

He had packed his old suitcase, which he received as a compliment when he purchased gold for his daughter’s wedding. He packed one mundu, two white shirts, his penknife, his glasses, a torch, a tin of talcum powder and his old leather Bible. He also powdered his neck, tied a handkerchief around it, put on his shirt and mundu, slipped into his almost worn out sandals. This was his style. The add on was an umbrella he purchased for this purpose.  It had a “J”  handle that doubled as his walking stick. 

He paced slowly through the dusty road, felt the heat from the sun. He opened his umbrella, which was his only shelter now and walked towards an unknown destination.